Between the Vines (44 page)

Authors: Tricia Stringer

BOOK: Between the Vines

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The lilt of her Irish voice reminded him of the girl who'd been the cook's assistant back home, but the barmaid was nothing like Bernadette, who'd made his face heat with her flirting. There were deep lines around this woman's eyes and mouth and her cheeks were ruddy. From across the room it had looked like a youthful glow but now he could see the skin was rough and the glow probably the product of her employer's slops.

“No, thank you.” He frowned at her. “I don't want it.”

“This is a pub. Everyone wants it.” She rolled her eyes and pushed her barely covered bosom closer. “Especially a good-looking feller like you.”

Thomas started to rise but the barmaid put a hand on his chest and pushed him back.

“Sure, you've enough for one drink.”

He looked over her shoulder through a gap in the crowd to the bar, where the bartender was watching them intently. The woman was right: if he was going to sit here any longer he needed a drink or he'd draw more attention to himself than he wanted.

He slipped a hand into his pocket for his money pouch. The pocket was empty. He patted his pants and reached for his jacket. No pouch there either. He must have left it in his trunk when he repacked it that morning. “I don't have my pouch.”

“Cut the games.” The barmaid fixed him with her small round eyes. “Pay for your ale or leave.”

Thomas hesitated. He recalled the menacing words painted on the sign outside. He had notes concealed inside his shirt but he was reluctant to reveal them here.

A large hand appeared between them and slapped some coins on the rough wooden surface. Thomas looked up into the eyes of the gentleman from the next table. In spite of his clean-shaven face he had a rugged appearance, but none of that changed Thomas's earlier impression that he had the air of a gentleman.

“I'll shout the gentleman; and one more for me thank you, Mary,” the man said.

Before Thomas could protest Mary had scooped up the coins. “Thank you, Mr Browne.” She did a small bob and was gone, weaving skilfully through the crowd to the bar.

Thomas studied the man who'd come to his aid. “You're Mr Browne?” he said.

The man's sharp gaze locked on Thomas. “That's me. Who are you?”

“Thomas Baker. I've come about the job. I'm sorry I didn't recognise you. I was told you had long hair and a beard.”

Mr Browne gave a hearty laugh. “I did until this morning. I've been out of town a long time with only sheep for company. I've just come from the barber shop.” He studied Thomas. “You're early,
and not what I was expecting.”

“I can work as hard as any man.” Thomas pulled back his shoulders and lifted his head as the older man looked him over. This was not how he'd intended to approach his prospective employer.

“Well, Thomas, since we're sharing a drink, is it all right if I move myself to your table?”

Before he could answer, Mr Browne took up his bowl and moved it across, then shifted his large frame into the chair alongside. The smell of some kind of stew reached Thomas's nostrils. His mouth watered and his eyes were drawn to the bowl.

Another pot of ale appeared at the table.

“Mary, bring us another bowl of whatever this is.” Mr Browne waved his hand over his food and dropped more coins on the table.

“It's Irish stew, Mr Browne, me old mam's recipe.”

“Whatever it is, we'll have another for my new friend.”

Once again Thomas began to protest but Mary had taken the coins and gone.

“You look like you could do with a good feed.”

“It's very kind of you, Mr Browne, but â”

“The name's Andrew James Browne. People call me AJ.” He reached out and gripped Thomas's hand in a firm shake. His face crinkled into a smile then he pointed to his bowl. “You'll be hard pressed to find much mutton in the stew. Mostly potatoes and onion, but it's tasty all the same.”

“Thank you. I'm not sure how I can repay your kindness.”

“It's not necessary.”

Thomas sat back quickly as Mary plonked a bowl of stew in front of him. His stomach rumbled in anticipation.

“Eat your fill.” A deep chuckle gurgled from AJ's throat and he ate from his own bowl.

Thomas did the same, and by the time he'd swallowed the last mouthful the stew had warmed his insides and the ale had warmed his blood.

AJ sat back and folded his arms across his broad chest. “So Thomas Baker. What brings you to the new colony of South Australia?”

“It was my father's idea originally.” Thomas paused, not sure how much of his story he should tell his prospective employer.
“He worked back in England managing a farm. After my mother died he decided we should make a new start.”

“I'm sorry for you loss. What kind of work are you and your father looking for or has he already found employment?”

Thomas hesitated. “My father died aboard ship on the way here.”

The sharp gaze that studied Thomas softened. “Once more, I am sorry,” AJ said.

Thomas clenched his jaw. The promise of a new start had been the only thing to brighten their days since his mother's death. They'd heard Australia was a wonderful new land with plenty of work and money to be made. His father had taken their meagre savings and accepted cheap passage to South Australia but he had not taken to ship life, succumbing to constant sea sickness which had finally killed him just before they'd reached Adelaide. For a moment, Thomas was transported to his father's burial and the memory of the weighted shroud as it slid from the board and plunged into the rough ocean below. The mournful tolling of the bell marked the moment, as Thomas braced himself against the railing, gusts of wind ripping at his coat and wailing through the rigging. The waves had swallowed his father's body,
and slammed against the wooden hull.

He took a deep breath. Their employers, the Dowlings, had made a mockery of his father's decision, called them both fools as they'd left and warned them not to come crawling back looking for handouts. Perhaps the Dowlings had been right â¦ Now there was only Thomas, the last of their money hidden inside his shirt, and the two trunks of basic items they'd brought with them.

“Have you worked before with animals?” AJ's question cut into Thomas's thoughts.

He swallowed his grief once more and gave his full attention to the man opposite. “Yes. The farm I worked on had sheep and there were cows to be milked. We also helped with the horses.”

AJ studied him closely. “You're not quite what I was expecting.”

Thomas felt as if his deception was written all over his face. His job at the Dowlings had been footman. He'd only assisted his father in his rare moments of spare time.

“In what way?”

“I was hoping for someone more robust.”

“I was very sea sick on the trip out,” Thomas said quickly.
“I've lost weight but I'm strong.” He hoped the good Lord would forgive him his lies but he needed this job and after the labouring work of the last few weeks he had certainly built up some strength. The rain that had fallen on his arrival in South Australia had hardly let up and the streets of Adelaide had turned to slush. He'd been given rough lodgings in Emigration Square and in return he'd been sent to work with a few other men. No sooner had they shovelled and scraped the roads into a traversable surface than it rained again and a fresh lot of horses and drays passed by,
causing the ruts and pot holes to return.

AJ pursed his lips and drew a watch from his top pocket. He opened it, peered at the face, then snapped it shut. “I'm sorry for all that's befallen you, Thomas, but I don't know if you're suited to my needs.”

Thomas drew himself up. “I am quite used to hard work if that's what bothers you.”

“Rest assured,” AJ reached across and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, “I didn't take you as a man not prepared to work for his living. I was hoping for someone with a little more experience. There were a couple of men interested.”

Thomas held AJ's gaze. He could see the older man was weighing something up.

“Whatever the work is, I am sure I am up to it,” Thomas said.

AJ studied him a moment longer then his face relaxed into a smile. “You remind me of myself ten years ago. I came to Australia in similar circumstances, although not orphaned, I had only the clothes on my back and little money. I learned as I went. Hard work has stood me well.” He leaned forward and the smile dropped from his face. “I'll tell you what I need, Thomas Baker. You may well change your mind once you've heard me out.”

Thomas recalled his father had used nearly the same words before he'd told of his plan to leave England. He needed to do this, not only for himself but for his father. He pulled back his shoulders and clasped his hands firmly together.

“I don't believe I will, Mr Browne.”

“Very well. There's plenty to be made from this land if you are prepared to work. I have property in the north and I've stocked it with three thousand sheep. It's rugged country. Water's not so abundant and it's no place for the faint hearted. There are wild dogs up there and there's also been trouble with the natives. In spite of that the sheep don't need shepherding as you would know it in England.”
AJ leaned closer. “I have other land to see to and I need an overseer.”

The word hung in the air between them.

Finally Thomas spoke. “So you would want me to be your overseer?”

“I need someone reliable. It's no easy job. I've left one shepherd up there, a redheaded Scot with a quick temper. McKenzie's his name but he's little more than useless when left to his own devices. He needs a master.”

Thomas held Mr Browne's look across the table. He was a footman. What did he know about shepherding in the bush of South Australia?

“So now you know,” AJ said. “I need a man I can trust. I am in a hurry but I can wait for the others.” He paused. “Unless you believe you could be that man.”

Thomas swallowed his doubts. “Will there be some guidance?”
he asked.

“You seem a bright enough fellow to me. McKenzie knows sheep; you'll learn from him. He's just not what I call reliable.” AJ lowered his voice. “I'll pay you sixty pounds a year.”

Thomas's reply died in his throat. That was a decent sum of money. It would come with a lot of hard work but he had nothing to lose and he needed the experience a job like this would give him.

AJ was watching him closely. “I'll loan you the money to buy a horse and saddle. If you do well, I'll increase your salary each year.”

Thomas's mind raced as he calculated the income. Maybe he could make enough to get his own place one day. His father would have been proud. “It's a good offer, Mr Browne.”

“Call me AJ.” The older man reached his hand across the space between them. “Do we have a deal?”

Thomas hesitated then thrust his own into the firm grip of his new employer. With not much to lose and a lot to gain, he felt a surge of optimism.

“Well done, Thomas. It's a good opportunity I'm offering you. It won't be a ride in your English countryside but I'm sure you're up to it. Come on.” AJ rose to his feet. “No need to wait around here any longer. There's a lot to organise. We might as well make a start.”

Thomas reached for his jacket. No longer would he have to wield a shovel in the endless job of keeping Adelaide's streets passable. He would still be working for someone else but for a good wage and AJ was already proving to be a most agreeable employer. Outside, the heavy clouds had lifted and broken apart. Sunlight reached his patch of the street. Thomas was happy to take that as a sign his life was improving. He pushed his battered hat firmly onto his head and strode purposefully after Mr Browne.

Coming in May 2016, the second in the Flinders Ranges series,

Dust on the Horizon